


Guilty Pleasures

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bruises, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Marking, Mild Sexual Content, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Ownership, Possessive Behavior, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "Akashi is unmistakably older than Kuroko so it's not unusual for him to exude a stronger sense of power, but it's the way in which it manifests that leaves Kuroko with a strange bitterness on the back of his tongue. Nonetheless, Kuroko knows that his present situation demands a reliable source of income, so he clears his throat and straightens his own posture in hopes that he'll appear more competent and experienced. 'Did I do something wrong?' he asks, looking Akashi dead in the eye, while somehow knowing that he couldn't look away even if he wanted to." Kuroko gets hired by Akashi for more than what's written in his job description.





	Guilty Pleasures

Kuroko makes it two full days working at Akashi Co. Ltd., before Akashi loses his temper.

It's a bright spring morning, so bright in fact, that Kuroko has to shield his eyes from the many rows of shimmering glass that make up the handsome edifice, standing tall and sloping out of the pavement. It's a conglomerate company, founded by Akashi's father and located in the heart of Kyoto. It would never have been Kuroko's first choice in the way of employment but living expenses are on the rise, and the last thing he wants is to lose the first home he's made for himself.

Kuroko steps inside an elevator designated as “Staff Only” and presents the key card he was given subsequent to his formal interview with the boss himself to a blue scanner on the wall. Kuroko didn't have any expectations that day considering he had very little experience in business, but something changed behind the heterochromatic gaze of Akashi Jr. when Kuroko introduced himself. He couldn't put a name to it if asked, only that he somehow knew that he wouldn't be leaving empty-handed. If nothing else, he expected a third-string proposition, something along the lines of custodial work, which wasn't exactly his cup of tea but _a job is a job_ , he thought. And who was he to turn away a secure position, especially when Akashi was staring at him like he was of inestimable value, a moneyed smile stretched across his lips. However, he never expected to land a position right beneath the red-headed man— _quite literally_ , but he wouldn't find out those little details until later.

Kuroko blinks himself back into awareness as an eerie voice echoes off the elevator walls. It sounds too human, too _real_ , and taking into account how advanced the lift's technology is, it feels more like riding on the back of a human rather than in a machine. Kuroko tries to ignore the chill that curls around his spine and instead, watches the city fall away from his feet as he absentmindedly centers his body away from the windowed walls.

The elevator's voice rings out for a second time, glib and perfunctory, as the steel doors slide open without the hesitation or rachitic shake of its preceding models. Kuroko ignores the resounding confirmation of which floor he's stopped on and hurries out of the elevator. It's easy enough to confirm that he's arrived where he needs to be because the topmost floor doesn't bear the same indistinguishable likeness as the other levels. That's not to say that the other floors aren't extravagant in their own right, the whole building is as ostentatious as it is modern. However, as soon as Kuroko steps through an ornate door, undoubtedly crafted from extravagant wood, and surrounded by equally lavish marble, he's standing in a large room that looks more like a luxury penthouse than even the stateliest of offices.

The place looks almost desolate considering the ratio of furniture to vast space. Still, even after seeing it for what will be his third day in a row, Kuroko can't argue that the room has a certain charm to it. He glances around the open space and takes the momentary advantage of Akashi's absence to take stock of his surroundings. He lets his eyes rove over the hand-painted walls and the few art pieces that cut into their intricate designs. He reaches out to touch the solid structure, wondering if the fine details woven into the opulent architecture embody the textures they present. But, for some reason, he thinks better of it and draws away from the wall. He turns his attention to a desk that sits across the room, bereft of any kind of ornamentation that would suggest use and enterprise. Kuroko can't imagine Akashi sitting behind the grand piece of polished wood, not for his position but for his size. He's not much taller than himself, and Kuroko can only imagine Akashi being swallowed up by the size of it—not to mention the broad leather chair that overshadows the desk.

Kuroko notices a stack of paperwork that he'd somehow missed before and abstractedly picks up the top piece of paper. He scrunches his brows together and tries to parse what each section means but quickly deems it a draconian obstacle better left to the one filling it out. The handwriting on the document is small and neat, and for a moment, Kuroko wonders if it's script at all and not the work of a printer. He sets the paper back on top of the pile and circles around to the back of the desk. He's lost in the veil of his own thoughts when he picks up a framed photo of a woman smiling at the camera and dressed in a long white gown.

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” Akashi asks, making Kuroko jolt himself back to attention.

“She is,” Kuroko answers, quiet but honest. “Is she your mother?”

“Was,” Akashi tells him, his polished shoes resounding on the glossy floorboards, then going silent when he steps up and onto the plush carpet that accents his desk. “She passed away when I was in my fifth year of elementary school.” Akashi smiles softly but it doesn't reach his eyes and Kuroko can feel that something is off in the way his stomach churns with unrest.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Kuroko says, releasing the picture when Akashi needlessly tugs it out of his hands.

“Tetsuya, I hired you to be my conscript, did I not?” Kuroko watches as Akashi sets the frame back down on his desk, furrowing his brow when his boss lies the picture face-down.

“Yes, Sir,” Kuroko supplies, his voice as steady as a heartbeat. His gaze briefly wanders over Akashi's body, taking in the hard line of his posture and the way his suit catches at all the right contours of his frame. It's tailored to his form like a glove, and Kuroko can't imagine how much of his salary he'd have to put away before he could afford something so exorbitant. He swallows soundlessly and drags his gaze back up to Akashi's face, unsurprised to find the redhead staring at him.

Akashi is unmistakably older than Kuroko so it's not unusual for him to exude a stronger sense of power, but it's the way in which it manifests that leaves Kuroko with a strange bitterness on the back of his tongue. Nonetheless, Kuroko knows that his present situation demands a reliable source of income, so he clears his throat and straightens his own posture in hopes that he'll appear more competent and experienced. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, looking Akashi dead in the eye, while somehow knowing that he couldn't look away if he wanted to.

Akashi takes Kuroko by the elbow and starts toward the room's several branches that split off in varying directions. Kuroko allows himself to be escorted, wondering if Akashi is even going to bother giving him an explanation, but he barely covers two feet before the redhead twists his arm behind his back and slams him up against his desk. His hips collide with the heavy wood hard enough to promise future bruises along the delicate jut of bone beneath his trousers. He emits a short breath but Akashi pays it no mind as he slides his fingers through Kuroko's hair and forcefully shoves his head down against the smooth surface in front of him. The wood is cold against his cheek but Kuroko appreciates the momentary relief it brings to the heat coursing through his veins.

“I suppose I should have been a bit more direct when I hired you for this job,” Akashi says, his voice stable and resolute despite the arousal Kuroko notes when he briefly brushes up against his backside. “You see, I'm very possessive of my belongings and I don't take kindly to people touching them.” Akashi drags his hand through Kuroko's hair and braces his fingers against the back of his neck, the contact alone enough to pin Kuroko against the desk without force. “It was with an abundance of generosity that I offered you an office in my suite considering how much I value my personal space.” Akashi wraps an arm around Kuroko's waist and tugs the white button-down that's sticking to his skin away from his trousers. “Don't make me regret my decision, Tetsuya,” Akashi warns, working the button and zip keeping Kuroko's pants fastened to his hips free and loose.

Kuroko swallows thickly and closes his eyes, wondering if it's even worth his time to try to fit together the pieces of what's transpiring. He rocks forward in an attempt to distribute his weight more evenly but Akashi is kicking apart his feet, and before Kuroko can find some semblance of balance, Akashi is yanking his pants down to the tremor in his thighs.

“You are going to belong to me, Tetsuya,” Akashi tells him, his tone low and draped in something like silk. “I'm going to treat you like one of my possessions.”

Kuroko parts his lips but it's not for a response because his heart is in his mouth. Alternatively, he inhales a shallow breath and braces himself for the pain that he knows will supervene Akashi's discourse.

The first blow comes fast and sharp, and the sound of Akashi's open fist against Kuroko's skin is radiant against the otherwise silent backdrop of the room. Kuroko squeezes his eyes shut and sucks his bottom lip between the damp edges of his teeth. He listens carefully, trying to pick up anything indicative of Akashi's present state but the room remains silent. When the second point of contact chases the first, Kuroko bites down on the tissue between his teeth, but it's not enough to silence the small whimper-crossed moan that purrs up the back of his throat.

Kuroko keeps his eyes shut and knits his brows together while he waits for the third sting of skin-on-skin contact. His heart thuds wildly in his chest and his body begins to shake in ready anticipation of what's to come. It's a strange sensation, one that Kuroko has only deigned to feel on the very rare occasion of a one-night stand.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Akashi asks, and where Kuroko expects anger or even perhaps disappointment, he finds a footprint of amusement. “You're going to work out better than I expected” –Akashi grabs Kuroko firmly by the hips and bodily turns him around–“but then again, I'm never wrong.” Akashi's tongue catches at the sharp point of a canine and the dark that catches in the duel tones of his gaze eclipses all of the light in his eyes. He looks wild and unhinged, almost animal, and Kuroko can feel excitement lance through his heart when Akashi pushes him back against the desk. His skin is hot and raw when it makes contact with the solid surface, and Kuroko can't imagine what he would be feeling if Akashi had continued with his punishment.

“I knew that I had to make you mine the minute you set foot in the conference room the other day.” Akashi fits his hand against the base of Kuroko's throat and steps forward, his legs catching friction against Kuroko's bare skin. Akashi grinds himself forward and the shock of pleasure that spreads through Kuroko feels like lightning beneath his skin. He focuses on the electric sensation as it branches through him, but it does little in the way of distraction because Akashi's shifting against him like a covetous serpent.

“I'm going to fuck you, Tetsuya. I won't tell you when and I won't tell you where.” Akashi tightens his grip and Kuroko exhales what little breath he has left in his lungs in the form of a shaky sigh. “Just know that I'll always be watching you. I'll always know where you are and who you're with, and if I catch you with anyone else, I _will_ make you suffer and you _won't_ like it.” Kuroko blinks slowly as his vision begins to wane and the strength in his knees begins to falter. He watches the corner of Akashi's mouth lift as he draws nearer, and when he feels the soft damp of a tongue against his lips, the compromising grip at his throat opens up and he can breathe again. “Do we have an understanding?” Akashi asks, his lips moving against Kuroko's, his voice scraping just above a whisper.

“Yes,” Kuroko complies, surprised to find that he can barely form the single word into sound.

“Yes, what?” Akashi demands, and digs his manicured nails into the bareness of Kuroko's hip.

“Yes, Sir,” Kuroko amends, shivering when Akashi presses the angle of his knee against his mounting arousal.

“That's a good boy,” Akashi purrs, and the heavy implication behind the praise would normally make Kuroko seethe, but for some reason, it goes straight down to his bones. His breath hitches and every nerve-ending in his body seems to light up at once. And it's not like the promise of bruises—which Kuroko quite so happens to enjoy—but something much, much greater.

* * *

Spring slips into summer at an alarming rate, or so it seems, and by this time every inch of Kuroko's skin is a vibrant sketch of where Akashi's been. They've christened every piece of furniture on his floor and have recently taken to sneaking off to lower levels just for recreation's sake. Kuroko can't think of a surface they haven't fucked on or against or even under, if he's counting the blowjob he gave to Akashi from beneath a conference table during last week's executive meeting. It's not something he saw as overtly taboo but when he offhandedly told Ogiwara what he'd done, his best friend nearly hit the ceiling over the fact.

And it's not that Kuroko hasn't looked at the big picture, in fact, he's stared at it for so long that his eyes burned with the strain of his focus, but the end result always seemed to outweigh the negative connotations and potential outcomes of his reasoning. Subsequently, he would find himself back within the barest reaches of Akashi's body, desperate and shameless and fucked in a way that he never knew he needed.

He finds himself in the restroom more often than what's strictly necessary, and it's not for the elemental perversion that some might think, though, he's not above admitting that there have been a handful of instances that called for his immediate attention. However, coming alone in the shape of his own fist has never been all that fulfilling and Kuroko avoids it where he can. What he's really looking for, or rather, at, is the contrast between the dark shadows and the red welts that starkly illustrate his pale skin. He stares into the mirror, knowing that no one but himself and Akashi have access to this particular restroom and gently touches the contusions that mottle his flesh. He traces a particularly long mark that streaks across his chest and disappears behind the curve of his shoulder. His eyes are glossy and heat-glazed and the drag of his fingertip almost feels phantom. He shifts his gaze to the juncture between his neck and shoulder and loses his concentration to the perfect indentation of Akashi's teeth set against his skin.

“I thought I might find you in here,” Akashi says smoothly, and when Kuroko looks up, he watches Akashi's reflection appear beside him in the stately mirror. “Skipping out on work to indulge yourself without even thinking to inform me?” he teases, wrapping his arms around Kuroko's waist and ducking his head to flick the tip of his tongue over the impression of his former claim. “I'm disappointed in you.”

Kuroko meets the gilded glint of Akashi's gaze in the mirror and manages an expression of put-on discontent. “I'm sorry, Akashi-sama.” Kuroko turns around in Akashi's arms and looks up at him, his eyes wide and inquisitive. “Would you like me to make it up to you?” Kuroko braces his hands on Akashi's hips and lets gravity work in his favor but to his surprise, Akashi catches his shoulders and stills his intention.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and the question catches Kuroko so off-guard it takes Akashi nodding in the direction of his neck for him to understand what he's referring to. Kuroko turns his head and glances down at his bare skin but he can't see the mark from this angle. Notwithstanding his reflexes, it bears no significance, he knows what every injury looks like by heart, having studied them more often than he probably should.

“It stung a bit at the time,” Kuroko admits, lifting his shoulder in a casual shrug. “It doesn't hurt much now.”

Akashi stares at him briefly, silent and inscrutable. Then he reaches out and presses his thumb in against the swollen bruise outlining the wound. Kuroko sucks in a breath between his teeth and flexes his fingers on Akashi's hips. “Akashi-sama,” he whispers involuntarily.

“I love when you call me that,” is Akashi's response, thick and shot-through with honey. “But then, I just love hearing my name on your lips.” Akashi drags the pad of his thumb across the bottom line of Kuroko's mouth as if he's underscoring the sentiment. “You're so beautiful, Tetsuya. I'm content to call you mine.”

Kuroko takes Akashi's thumb into his mouth and sucks the salt from his skin, his eyes trained on the redhead's face. He finds himself forever fascinated by the arcane augury that writes itself across his eyes but today feels different, like something has changed about the distinctive ambiance that's always surrounding him.

Akashi draws his thumb away from Kuroko's lips but not before the younger man can nip gently at his flesh. Akashi chuckles quietly and cards his fingers through Kuroko's pale blue strands. “You're starting to see things a bit differently, aren't you?”

Kuroko furrows his brow impulsively but he knows it's fruitless to question Akashi's ability to see right through him. “You just feel a bit unusual today,” Kuroko admits, lifting a hand to run the blade of Akashi's tie between his fingers. “Is something wrong?”

Akashi catches Kuroko's wrist in his hand and brings his fingertips to his lips. He watches Kuroko's cheeks flush with a dusting of pink as he kisses each finger in turn. “You've grown more perceptive since you've been in my care,” Akashi tells him placidly. “But this isn't something I'd like to discuss in a restroom.”

Akashi escorts Kuroko out into the neighboring room and gestures for him to sit down on a luxurious leather sofa. Kuroko recalls when they had sex here and how the material stuck to his skin, and if his memory is anything to go by—which it seldom fails him—it was the first time Akashi called out his name.

Kuroko smiles fondly and folds his hands in his lap, waiting for Akashi to address whatever it is he wants to discuss. He feels anxious and uneasy but he's learned to read Akashi's moods well enough to parse the good from the bad, and at the present moment, Kuroko can't discern anything negative from the other male.

“I want you to be mine, Tetsuya,” Akashi blurts suddenly, and Kuroko's confusion must show on his face because Akashi's lifting a hand to dispel his unspoken questions. “I never imagined that this day would come, and in fact, if I'm being honest, I feared it. I swore after my mother died that I would never open myself up to anyone ever again. I took pride in my ability to live alone and my capacity for individual success. Be that as it may, I never expected someone like you to come into my life.” Akashi stops pacing in front of the sofa and faces Kuroko directly, a crooked smile on his face. “You're unlike anyone I've ever met, Tetsuya. I can't find an exact reason for why I feel the way I do, but after many long nights, I've finally decided that I don't need a reason. I know what I want and that's you. I'd like you to be my partner.”

Kuroko stares at Akashi, transiently stupefied by the weight his confession. His mouth feels exceptionally dry and he has to wet his lips before he can put a voice to what he wants to say. “You mean, you want me to be your lover?” he chokes out in a throaty whisper.

“I do. I'm tired of hiding in fear of losing myself. I've spent so long living with no one but my own demons that I forgot how it feels to be with someone who understands me. You don't judge me, Tetsuya. Not even after everything we've done together, the things that I've asked of you. You have a way of bringing down my walls and for as much as that angered and terrified me at the start of all this, it felt nice to be myself for a change. You help me see things in a different light, and I think that this is my chance to stop living in the dark.” Kuroko watches Akashi's expression change and for the first time since he started working for him, he can see genuine emotion painted across his features. “You don't have to agree, of course. I just...”

“I think that's the first time you've ever failed to complete a sentence in my presence,” Kuroko says, pulling himself up and into standing. He steps forward, closing the distance between their bodies and taking Akashi's face in his hands. “I need you, Akashi-sama. And if you need me, then that's all the more reason to accept your proposal. I don't think I realized before now just how badly I was hoping you'd want this one day.”

A smile widens the dig of Akashi's mouth as he takes Kuroko into his arms and wraps him in a warm embrace. “Thank you, Tetsuya. You don't have the slightest clue as to how much I needed to hear that from you.”

Kuroko pulls back just enough to look Akashi in the eye. “Actually, I think I do. Which means that you were wrong. Were you prepared for this big of a change?”

Akashi furrows his brow and stares at Kuroko for a long moment, silence taking over the shape of his lips. Kuroko's mouth twitches into a smile and his chest vibrates in answer to a reticent chuckle. Then, after a brief pause of what Kuroko deems gradual realization, Akashi begins to speak calmly. “Tetsuya, I want you to go over to my desk, undress, and plant your hands firmly against the wood.”

Kuroko bites back a smile and starts unfastening the buttons on his shirt as he walks backward in the direction of Akashi's desk. “What are you going to do to me?”

Akashi grins like an uncultivated king about to have his way with one of his many fools, the ferocity of his smile spreading up to his tameless gaze like fire. He begins working loose the knot of his tie, and Kuroko can already feel a rush of blood collect between his thighs. “I'm going to teach you a lesson, and if you're lucky, I'm going to fuck the sarcasm right out of you.”

Kuroko tugs the withered edges of his shirt—a designer gift from Akashi—free from his trousers and lets the material fall away from the delicate line of his shoulders. “If I'm lucky, we won't make it through the lesson before you lose control. That temper of yours is a fickle thing,” he teases, his eyes blown wide and electric blue.

“I certainly can't deny that,” Akashi utters, his deft fingers working open the front of his trousers. “Now, _lover_ , let me hear you say my name.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
